The Greaser Chronicles Part 1: Come What May
by Pixie Moon Angel
Summary: Life was great for Angelina Marquin in Tulsa. Her rich family provided well for her. But then on a trip to New York on her way to Boarding School, her life gets turned upside down. She struggles through daily life and tries to achieve her dream of becomin
1. That Fateful Trip

Okay, this is the prequl to my first Outsiders fanfic, "I'll be that Girl". The title for this for now is Come What May, as you might have noticed. It may change, so beware. The people I don't own are as follows: I do not own Dallas Winston. He is a creation from S.E.Hinton's mind. I also do not own Heaven Marquin. My little sister owns herself and she also owns Taylor Winston. I do not own Jade West, either. But other than that, I own everyone else. If I do not own something, the name of the person, place or thing will be followed by: {*}. At the end of the chapter in which they were mentioned, credit will be given to the person who owns them. So, let's get started, shall we?! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Chapter 1-- That Faithful Trip  
  
"But I want to go," cried a little Heaven Leigh Marquin.  
The small girl threw her paintbrush at the closest wall, splattering sky-blue paint all over it's smooth white surface. She then kicked over her cup of water/paint and caused the fresh creme-colored carpet to turn a mirky color.  
"Oh, muffin," soothed Lara Marquin, het mother, pushing a strand of blond hair out of her daughter's small beautiful face. "I know, baby. It was a hard decision for your father to make. Afterall, it is Angelina's ninth birthday. This is a big change for her. Boarding school is a huge responsibility for a young girl. You will get to go when you are nine. And just because she is getting to spend a few days in New York does not mean that we love her more than you. We'll be back soon, I promise. Until then, you get to stay with your wonderful cousins, Claire{*1} and Chris{*2} in Hawaii. Isn't that lovely, sweetie?"  
"Yes, I guess so," Heaven pouted. "But I wanted to go to New York, too! Angel gets everything!"  
"Oh, dear Heavenly," Lara sighed. "She may seem to get everything, but when she was your age, there were things she wanted that we did not give her. But how about this?"  
Lara pulled a beautiful pink dress out of a white gift-wrap box and held it out for Heaven to see. It was simply beautiful. There was a little flower on the chest, and it was the perfect size to fit the small child.  
"I love it, Mommy," Heaven squealed and hugged her mother tightly. "Thank you!"  
Lara smiled and hung the new dress in Heaven's closet with the rest of the child's fancy clothing.  
"Come along, dear," the blond mother said, leading Heaven down the hall. "The limo is waiting for you. You'll have to say good-bye to your father and Angelina."  
The small, blond Angelina was standing at the front door, positively bubbling over with excitement. This was something wonderful! This would be her first time taking a trip away from Tulsa, Oklahoma, not counting the family trips to Paris.  
Boarding school was a big deal to young Angelina. Every young woman on her mother's side had gone to Madame Star's Finishing Academy for Young Women. The Malory name--her mother's maiden name--was well-known at the Academy and Angelina's family were top finacial providers for the school. Finally, it was her turn to make the Malorys proud by attending and graduating from the Academy!  
The study door opened and out strolled Damian Marquin. Tall, broad shouldered and muscular, Damian was an intimadating man. But little Angelina wasted no time in flinging herself into her father's arms.  
"Ah, sweetheart," Damian said happily in his deep voice. "Ready to go?"  
"Yes, Daddy," Angelina said in her happy tone.  
She looked up into his smiling face. His dark brown hair was cut short and his hazel eyes danced with pride. Her father was one of the most handsome men she'd ever seen.  
Heaven came down the steps then, taking them one at a time, her hand on the banister. Finally, her dainty decent was finished and she rushed to her father, flinging herself to him just as Angelina had. Damian Marquin loved both of his daughters unconditionally and nothing could change that.  
"Well, Heaven, your things are all ready," Lara said, comming to stand beside the three. "Miles has brought the limo around. Say good-bye to your father and your sister then let's go."  
Heaven kissed her father's cheek lovingly and hugged him once more. Then she turned to Angelina, looking up at the taller child. Her turquoise eyes welled up with tears and she flung herself into her older sister's arms.  
"I love you, Angel," Heaven sobbed. "I don't want you to go! You can't go!"  
"I love you too, Heavi," Angel said, "but I have to go. You'll get to go, too. Tell Claire and Chris hello for me, all right?" With that, Angelina kissed both of her little sister's cheeks and hugged her again.  
Heaven nodded and pulled back, wiping her eyes. Then she caught a hold of her mother's hand and was led outside. Angelina waved to her the whole way.  
The black limo pulled away, leaving Angelina standing at the front door, tears running down her face. This would be the first time that the two sisters would be apart.  
"Come along, Angel. We have to make sure that you are packed properly."  
Angelina looked up into the smiling face of her father and smiled herself. She held onto his big hand with one of her smaller ones and allowed him to lead her upstairs. But she couldn't help thinking that she should have said a better good-bye to her sister.  
  
Four hours later, Damian led his young daughter and his beautiful wife down the private plane ramp and looked around at the New York airport. Soon, he spotted their limo and walked over to it.  
Soon, they were on their way to their large apartment building. Tomorrow, Damian would take care of the business that had brought him here while Lara would finish the final steps of the regrestration process for Angelina. The next two days would be spent sight-seeing. This was a rare trip and the Marquins wanted their young daughter to enjoy herself. Little did they know of what awaited them right around the corner in time. . . ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ Ah, that's the end of chapter 1. How mean am I? Come on, tell me. I wanna hear it. Well, a few notes: 1: Clarie Redfeild belongs to CapCom, but the CHARACTER belongs to my cousin. 2: Chris Redfeild belongs to CapCom also, but the CHARACTER belongs to the same cousin. 


	2. The Cold Hands of Death

Here's Chapter 2. I would like to thank all of you people who are reading and reviewing. Your support is so comforting. But be warned! The rating for this story will have to change in the future. It will have to be R for several reasons. When the change is made, I'll let you know why, all right? I don't want to spoil it for ya'll. Again, thank you for standing by me while I write this depressive story. And without further ado, here's chapter 2! {That rhymed ^_^} ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Chapter 2--The Cold Hands of Death  
  
The night air was cool around them, the calm breezes blowing Angelina's hair every which way. The young girl was enjoying herself to no end. Her father and mother had spent the whole day taking her from store to store, buying her new dresses, shoes, coats, hats and other articles of clothing in preperation for her stay at the Academy. She had even been given some money to spend on personal items, but had chosen to spend it on little trinkets that she would surprise Heaven with. Oh, how her sister would love the little gold charm bracelet with the Statue of Liberty, a teddy bear, the Empire State Builiding, a flower, and a little pixie on it. Angelina could just see the joy in Heaven's young face. . .  
"Angelina, come along," her father called as he was hailing a taxi. "We don't have the rest of the night to doddle, dearest."  
"All right, Daddy." She eagerly ran to catch up with them.  
The limo that was usually there to escort them had gotten a flat tire earlier that afternoon and was being repaired. The Marquins didn't mind riding in a taxi, afterall. They were tourisits and that was the way that normal tourisits traveled.  
As her father helped her mother out of the cab in front of their grand hotel, Angelina took the time to gaze out her window at this city of beautiful lights. It paled in comparision to Paris, yes, but it was still facinating in all of its granduer. She took in the sights of all of the people around her, all in a hurry to get to this place or that. A small woman rushed down the sidewalk, chasing after a scruffy-looking dog who was in turn chasing a cat. Piegons were sleeping on a window ledge above a fruit stand. A mousy-looking man walked casually into the alleyway behind her father. Angelina paid him little attention, only wondering what kind of business this person had in store for the evening. Was he off to a store this late, going home to his wife and children, maybe going into work? But the child turned her attention to an espically big building as a man walked out from it. The man in the alleyway was completely forgotten as she looked up at the sign. It read in big, fancily-written, neon letters "Madame Zora's Ballet Academy". Ballet! Could one believe?!  
It was Angelina's secret desire to become a prima ballerina one day. And here she was, sitting in front of a school that could help her acomplish that dream. For a moment, she closed her eyes. She saw herself as a young woman, tall and graceful, standing on a bright stage in a red ballet emsamble, roses in her arms. The dancers around her bowed and she followed their lead gladly. The audience stood to their feet, giving them a standing ovation, crying out "Encore! Encore!". Oh, how she so wanted that! And with the ballet classes that she had taken since she was much younger, why couldn't that be her on that stage, holding those roses?  
Her father's voice shook her from these glamorous thoughts and she quickly climbed out of the taxi. She watched as her father paid the driver and he drove away, off to pick up his next customer. Her dress and coat, which had both become wrinkled from sitting on them as she had, needed smoothing out. So, stopping, she did just that. Her parents waited paitently until she finished.  
"Gimme all your money now," said a voice from behind her father's towering shoulders. Angelina looked up in time to see her father stiffen and grip her mother's hand tightly.  
"We have no money," Damian said in a quiet voice. That was quite true. They hadn't brought much with them to the stores in the first place and Damian had just spent the last on the taxi ride.  
"I know you have money, man," the voice insisted. "Hand it over now."  
"I have told you before, sir, that I have none." The temper was rising in Damian's voice now. "I will not tell you again. Kindly be on your way." He then started to turn around.  
"Turn around and you're dead." Damian stopped in mid-motion.  
Angelina looked up at him in confusion. What was happening here? Was this what people called "being mugged"? She supposed so. She'd often heard her aunt, who had died a few years prior from a heart attack, talking about this. Aunt Sophie used to live in New York and said that muggings were a daily trend.  
At that moment, a shot rang out in the night and Damain's huge form came crashing down on the ground. Lara screamed and went quickly to her knees to catch her husband. Damian was dead before he hit the ground, blood seeping from the back of his head.  
"Run, Angelina," Lara yelled to her frightened daughter. The girl hesitated then ran towards her parents. Blood soon stained her new white shoes and the creme coat that she had taken such pains to keep clean.  
Another shot pierced the night and Lara went limp. Sirens sounded and the man, taking one last look at Angelina, shot again and ran off. The bullet just missed her. For a brief moment, she thought she reconized that man. Then it came to her. He was the mousy man who had entered the alley not so long ago.  
Police cars drew near. Angelina looked down at her parents, both dead. Tears were streaming down her face, heart-wrenching sobs flying from her lips. She was shaking them both, pleading with them to get up. Why wouldn't they get up? They weren't dead. They weren't! Her mind just wouldn't grasp that fact. They couldn't be dead!  
Three more shots sounded and Angelina ran in fright. Her feet carried her as terror clouded her senses. Where she was going, she didn't know. The only thing that she was remotely aware of was the sudden ice- cold rain that poured out of nowhere.  
On and on she ran, the memories of the past few minutes squeezing her heart in a cold grip. The cold hands of Death, wringing her heart, choking off her life. Her parents. . . Gone. . . 'No,' her mind screamed. 'No, it isn't true!'  
Suddenly, the ground rose up to meet the young blond girl, or so it seemed. She slammed down onto the hard pavement, her body jarred. Her chin ached, as did her knees and elbows, all surely bearing scrapes from her fall. Instead of getting up, Angelina stayed down and cried her heart out, pounding on the ground until her fists became bloody and numb. The rain continued to sting her small body, chilling her to the very core.  
To escape the rain, she crawled under some cardboard boxes that were doing their best to withstand the water. Shivers ran up and down her spine. Her lips were ice blue. Everytime she exhaled a shaky breath, a small cloud escaped her lips. Vaguely, she thought that this must be how an ice cube felt.  
Slow footsteps echoed off of the brick walls. Angelina didn't even have the strength to be concerned. All she wanted was to be warm at home with her parents. They would be sitting in front of the fireplace on such a night, Damian and Lara sitting together on the lush loveseat, herself and Heaven lying in front of the warm fire, reading a book. Hot chocolate would be sitting near them, just waiting for the young girls to sip and be filled with that loving warmness. And after the book was done, Lara would say in her soft, motherly voice that it was time for bed. Then Angelina and Heaven would race upstairs, leaving their parents to do whatever they usually did, and climb into their huge, warm and soft beds. Sleep would come easy and in the morning, they could look foward to a warm breakfast of eggs, toast, porridge, with honey and marmalade. Ellie, the cook, would come out with pancakes with the cute smiley faces on them that Heaven loved so much. . .  
"Hey, kid, are you all right or what?"  
Angelina started at the unfamiliar voice. Her eyes snapped open and she looked around for the source of this disturbance.  
Standing before her was a young man, a boy who couldn't be much older than herself. He had chestnut brown hair that was plastered to his head from the rain and cobalt eyes that reminded her of her own. He was examining her, taking in her shaking form, bloody clothes and knees, and her apprehensive stare.  
"You're going to catch your death in that box," he exclaimed. "Come on out. Don't worry, I won't bite or anything." This was said with such warm kindness that Angelina painfully crawled out from her pitiful hiding place.  
The boy looked her over with sad eyes. What was he planning on doing? she wondered to herself. He approached her carefully, as if walking up to a frightened animal. All of his movements were slow. It was like he was afraid of making any sudden moves that would frighten her away. Didn't he know that she was too cold to move? That even if she wanted to run, she was in too much pain to move much further. She felt ready to pass out right then.  
"Man, you don't look good," she heard him mummble. Or was he mummbling? She couldn't tell. All the sound had gone distorted suddenly. Her vision was clouded. "You're shaking real bad. Here."  
An extra weight was added to her shoulders. What was that? Oh, it was just his jacket. The warm heat surrounded her. Instinct took over and she pulled it closer around her. The world around her gave a huge lurch and she felt herself falling, only to be saved by the boy's strong, young arms. He picked her up just as she blacked out, falling into blissful unconsciousness, into a world where nothing was felt.  
  
The next time Angelina awoke, she had no clue of where she was. She sat up and looked around in alarmed confusion. This wasn't her hotel room. Where was she?! Where were her parents? Why was everything so cold?  
"Don't move, child," said a soft voice. The voice tugged at Angelina's memory. Where had she heard it before? She just couldn't remember.  
"Where am I," she croaked miserably. Her throat seemed to be on fire and despite the many blankets that she felt piled on her, the room seemed to be ice cold.  
"My home." Angelina turned her head and looked around the run-down, sloppy apartment living room. Someone could actually call this home? How stunning.  
"Don't move," the voice cautioned again. Where was this person? It sounded like they were coming from somewhere behind her. She felt gentle hands on her shoulders and she was pressed into lying back down. "You've been unconsicous for almost a week. Good to see that you're all right, though. I wouldn't want to have to explain to the police why I'm bringing in a dead five-year-old."  
"I will have you know," Angelina started heatedly, "that I am not five! I am nine-years-old, thank you very much! Now, who are you and why am I here."  
"Well, that's gratitude for ya," the voice said. "You're here because you obviously have nowhere else to go. And I am Joe Curry. Now, who are you?"  
From behind the couch walked the boy Angelina had seen last. Had it really been a week since she'd set eyes on this boy? Surely not. She could remember every detail of his finely sculpted face.  
Joe was carrying a tray with two mugs and what looked like something that had once been toast before someone had taken a blowtorch to it. Now it was just black ash. He flashed Angelina a friendly smile then sat the tray down on the coffee table.  
"Have some coffee," Joe coaxed. "You need to keep warm so the fever doesn't get worse. I would tell you to eat the toast, but I don't think that would be a good idea. Well, make yourself comfortable. I'm going to go take a shower. I'll be back as soon as I can."  
With another smile, Joe left. She heard a door close and sat up on the worn-out couch. The apartment was a total mess. How could someone live here? Well, Joe himself hadn't really been anything special. He was a bit on the short side and kind of thin. He didn't look very strong at all, if the truth be known.  
The front door opened and in strolled a girl. She didn't look much older than Angelina, but then again, who really knew how old people were from first glance? The new girl's hair was a lovely raven color, framing her pretty face in dark waves. Icy blue eyes were turned on Angelina then swept the room as if she were looking for someone.  
"Where's Joe," the girl demanded. Angelina shakily pointed at the bathroom door.  
For a moment the girl just watched the young blond fidget. Close examiantion seemed to be important. Then she smiled and sat down beside Angelina.  
"Hey, I'm Jade," she said, extending her hand. "Jade West."  
"Angelina Marquin," came the whispered reply as the child shook Jade's hand.  
"Angel, huh? Cool name. Nice to see ya awake. We were about to take you to the hospital and drop ya off or something."  
Angelina listened to Jade chat on in a friendly manner but barely heard a word. She was too busy trying to figure out what she was doing here. And as she finally recalled the scene from her worst nightmares, a scene she never wanted to be true, grief swept over her. What was left in the world now? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ All right, that's all. I know that there hasn't been much involvement from the Outsider's characters yet, but just be paitent. I'm trying to do some character development. You people are so understanding. Really. I have no clue how you put up with me. I'm such a lousy person. I start stories then abandon them. Oh well. I'll try to break the habit. Well, Later Days Loyal Readers! Review, please! 


End file.
